Lord Voldemort, or rather, Tom Riddle, as a young boy, whose feet barely reached the floor when he sat upon a chair, found himself looking up, both physically and metaphorically, at Abraxas Malfoy. The Slytherin Prefect who knew, more than any other Slytherin, when to listen, how to speak depending on his audience, how to hold himself to command respect, how to mould himself after his prey - the embodiment of a snake. After Abraxas left Hogwarts and Tom became a Prefect himself, young Riddle found himself emulating him at times, without even realising it, and would continue doing so, using tricks learnt from Abraxas to gather his group of 'Knights of Walpurgis', what he used to call his Death Eaters until he finally settled on their purpose of serving him.

Voldemort never forgot what Abraxas had done for him when barely any Slytherins had bothered to give him as much as a second look. Not only did he have his son rise through the rank, not that he was not a good soldier in his own right, but he decided to look the other way as Abraxas found himself adding a witch with affinities - as far as Voldemort was concerned, against his own cause - to the Malfoy family tree.

And when Lucius rattled off ways in which she could be considered a dangerous element to the cause and proposed a plan that would have her return back to mainland Europe, Voldemort found himself in a rare position to admonish him for diverting resources, time, and manpower, and thinking that anyone, man, woman, or child, had the power to twist Abraxas Malfoy.

"You could kill her easily, if you're so worried. Torture then, if you're not willing to kill family yet." he mused, however Lucius staunchly refused this easy solution, for reasons he did not understand and did not care for. Why could not they all be more like the Lestranges?

"Lucius, now correct me if I'm wrong-" Voldemort continued, in a mocking tone. "But I don't believe the Dark Lord's plans do not align with the situation of your family - however, if you believe a member of your family needs to be controlled or disposed of, then by all means, you do not need my permission to do so."

And that was that on the matter.

However, Voldemort, or rather, once again the young Riddle, never found out that the only reason Abraxas Malfoy, rich and tall and well-connected since birth, decided to take a shine onto him, was because a young Aurora Prewett felt pity towards the poor, no-named orphan of dubious parentage. He did not care for romance, or love, and thought such emotional pleasures beneath him, and thus never knew that all the helping hands that Abraxas Malfoy extended towards him were because of her. He never knew, and never found out that Aurora, the only Slytherin in several generations of Prewetts, felt out of place herself, and convinced Abraxas to take him under his wing, until he would make a name for himself.

He never knew that when she heard what other students were calling him behind his back, when she found out he was an orphan, she leaned her head against Abraxas's shoulder, and he acquiesced to her, and that was how young Tom Riddle was able to figure out his parentage, by putting a young Abraxas's talents towards magical genealogy research to good use.

No one knew of these details apart from Abraxas. Not even Lucius.

Ah, perhaps if Aurora Malfoy, nee Prewett, had still been alive, Lucius Malfoy's life would have turned out differently. Perhaps Lucius could have spent more time with his maternal family, and gotten to know his uncles, and nephews, and nieces, and grandparents, and perhaps he would not have found himself a participant in the murder of at least one Prewett - but alas, it was easy to take on an identity as a full Malfoy, and forget that half of you came from a chestnut-haired, kind witch who smiled with her eyes, who wanted to be in Slytherin because she was truly gifted in Potions, and wished to be in the House of the wizard whom she considered to be one of the great living Potion Masters.

But alas, after Aurora's death, her family wanted nothing to do with Abraxas, in spite of his young son being hers as well. Not when young Lucius resembled his father so much - his hair, his gait, the way he strutted around and held his head high even during the funeral, not showing emotion to outsiders. No, the Prewetts did not like Abraxas much - it wasn't his ideology, as it was not uncommon at the time, and it wasn't his company, as he had distanced himself from the Lestranges and many members of the Black family, after a certain incident regarding Walburga Black.

It was the fact that they felt that he was stringing Aurora along with empty promises of marriage. And while he did marry her eventually, her father would claim until his death bed that it was on Abraxas's own terms, only because he finally decided to settle in his early thirties, after he had lived a good life as a bachelor.

What bothered the Prewetts even more, however, was that even while proclaiming himself to be a single man enjoying his life and his travels, each time Aurora was being courted or considering a relationship with a good, stand-up wizard that her parents approved of, Abraxas would appear out of thin air, at times literally, and Aurora would soon forget about the poor sod she had been dating, no matter how handsome, intelligent, rich, powerful, or what other wonderful qualities he would have had. Her family could not understand what it was about Abraxas Malfoy that had Aurora twisted around his finger, and had her visit St. Mungo's several times to test her for… well, anything that could have altered her otherwise good sense, from a variety of love potions, including Amortentia, to signs of the Imperius Curse.

Yet there was nothing they could find. So often were their visits that Dr. Greyburr, at the time the Head of the ward dealing with mental impairments that arise from magical interferences, could not help but roll his eyes each time Aurora, or 'young Prewett, bless her parents for how they line my pockets and her for the will to not run away each time they bring her' walked in, accompanied usually by her father, with a sheepish smile. Because young Aurora knew very well that her mind was not altered, and she was consciously dropping each of her suitors in favour of Abraxas Malfoy.

Because Aurora Prewett prided herself in her knowledge of the inner workings of Abraxas Malfoy, and since she understood what her feelings for him meant, why her heart skipped a beat and why she would get a bit lightheaded when he would walk in the same room as her, she made a promise to herself.

That she would win him over.

And when most of Aurora's from Hogwarts would either immediately get married to her high-school sweethearts or drop them altogether, realising they only matched with one another because they had spent years living in the same quarters, she and Abraxas maintained contact through letters throughout his travels, maintaining what they called a long-distance friendship. However, Aurora soon learnt that if she were to pepper enough details about her latest dalliances - of course, nothing lurid or unbecoming of a young stand-up woman of that era - that Abraxas would coincidentally find himself passing by Harrogate in the next few weeks, and at times, even days.

A pure coincidence which would lead to blissful weeks together, until he would leave once again, and the cycle would repeat, for years and years and years, until he finally married her. No one, apart from the husband and wife themselves, knew the finer details between Abraxas and Aurora apart from the two, and at times, neither had the full picture themselves.

The finer details of his second marriage, almost thirty years later, would be just as shrouded in mystery not only to outsiders, but to insiders as well.

Those who knew Abraxas Malfoy personally, or rather, as personally as he allowed them to, would not dare question why, in times of turmoil such as these, he had chosen to marry someone like Gregorovitch. Her ideals were much too different from what the blood purity ideals that the Malfoy family as a whole had. She was a halfblood. However, who had known Abraxas as a young man before his marriage to Aurora, especially those men who had been in the same dorm as him, such as Cygnus Black, the elder Nott, Rookwood, and so on, remembered well how his eyes would trail after beautiful witches, and the surprise in their eyes diminished as they saw Margarita Malfoy appear in her wedding dress next to him.

Those who knew Margarita personally would not question her mostly because they were not surprised, as the nature of a wizarding musician was one of a bohemian, of an opportunist, and many were the stories of wizards who would sit next to a ruler only to be able to sing about the coming revolutions. And those who knew her even more, knew she had no ears to listen to criticism. However, they wondered why, when many others had courted her, why she, with her decadent humour and loud laughter, had decided to tie herself to a wizard so solitary and surly as Abraxas Malfoy.

Those who knew the both of them were few and far between, and Bogdan had no intention to share his opinions with anyone, not even his own fiancee in the dead of the night, not even in his own personal writing, lest it fall in wrong hands. But he was the closest to understand the looks Abraxas and Margot gave to each other as he later on played at their wedding.

After all, he was the first one Margarita shared her findings on the Ballad of the Snake she discovered in the swamps of the Danube, and he was paid handsomely by Abraxas to play at his wedding - with full creative freedom on what he wished to play, long as it would be befitting of a Pureblood wedding. And with that money, Bogdan could spend a good year comfortably travelling around, filling his house with all forms of artefacts, without as much as seeing the lining of his purse. So what incentive would he have then, to break the trust of either his good friend and patron, or his sister in creed?

Margarita wondered at times if Bogdan knew her better than she knew herself. After all, he claimed, so sure of himself, when she stepped in the Assembly House, that 'he always knew she would return', and when she said that she was now to be addressed as Margarita Malfoy, he enigmatically responded with lyrics of a century-old poem that degraded the idea of love potions in favour of real romance.

"The eyes see, the heart desires, alas my sister, there's no power left to resist." he said melodically, tugging at his waxed moustache.

Perhaps it was so indeed, and she had repeated the words to Abraxas when he laid eyes on her, lounged on his chaise-lounge, as if she had been there for years, simply lying in wait for him to arrive, and had not turned up unannounced while he had been away at the Ministry. She was unsure herself of why she had been avoiding this moment, and even more unsure of why she returned, after having helped Narcissa with her young, sick child.

"The eyes see, the heart desires." she murmured as a hello.

"And what does your heart desire, my love?" he asked, slowly approaching her. He knew that look in her eyes very well by now - voracious, hungry, but just as poisonous if he were to make the wrong move. He pressed his palm against her cheek, and pulled at her robe with her other hand, revealing her bare shoulder. She wanted him, but first, he had to not only play her game, and win at it.

"Rather, what have your eyes been seeing?" she continued in a whisper.

"You. You've done something to me."

Abraxas was not surprised by her implications - if anything, they reminded him of long-forgotten conversations with Aurora. However, he never expected his reply to be the same one he had given his late wife, more than thirty years ago.

If he would have been younger, he would not have waited so long to court Margot, to maintain appearances to the outside world. Would not have refused her offers to 'go abroad' for weeks on end, knowing all too well what it would have meant for them. But after having experienced her, again and again and again, he felt awash with such a youthful vigour and virility, that he could not stop himself when he returned back to England. He would go to symphonic concerts, galas organised by the Assembly House, especially when foreign wizards would hold performances or exhibitions, and he would look at the witches around him with other eyes, and would now pay attention when they noticed him back.

However, while he may have been turning back to his younger days, he felt more… unfulfilled than in his youth.

He would find himself bored as soon as he finished, eager to return back to his solitude. And while he was with them, each time he closed his eyes, he would find himself thinking of Margot, and when he would open his eyes again, disappointment washed over him as none of the witches were her. Oh, how he would have traded any and all of them for her, if she were to appear right in that moment…

And now, here she was, back in his house, malleable in his hands.

"It's amusing, really, Margot. While I would make love to you, I would think of my late wife. Yet when I was not with you, I could think only of you."

"And what would you think of, when you would think of me?"

"Shall I show you?"

"I insist."

And he insisted indeed, until her eyes saw stars when she'd close them, until her hips trembled as he held her tightly in his grasp, until her body was quivering at his mere touch. That time, Abraxas had not thought of Aurora, not for a single moment, and when Margot asked if that counted as them consummating the marriage, he laughed heartily, and wiped the curls from her forehead as he stated he wanted to officially announce their marriage, in Britain, in a ceremony befitting of a Malfoy wife.

It was her time to laugh heartily, and she stated her condition for 'allowing' him to throw a wedding ceremony.

"A child?" he asked incredulously when he heard her request. "Margot…"

"I'll raise the child myself, if needs be."

"And it may very well be, at my age. If… well, when I die-"

"Then leave me something to remember you by. Your house, your money, all of what you have will go to your family, which is all fine by me, as I don't need any of your riches. But what will I have of yours, then?"

"A child, then…" he repeated to himself. An infant, a child, sibling to his adult son. His grandson, having an aunt or uncle younger than himself… It was not unheard of, of course, especially in pureblood families, but it was a bit unorthodox. Yet, when he watched the twinkle in Margot's eye- ah, why not?

After all, this hypothetical child could turn out to be quite helpful to himself.

So he agreed to her terms, and she, to his, albeit reluctantly.

"Mykew told me once…" he whispered, with her at his chest. He felt her heart beat against his arm, and he held her tighter, watching as an amber eye opened and rose from a mess of dark curls to scrutinise his words. "He told me, about the violin player, the maestro, when you two went around Europe for someone to teach you. He told me about the medley he sang to you two, in the intimacy of his room, how it led him to tears."

"When my mother saw us return, she thought we'd fought terribly on the way home, or that we saw something so terrifying it reduced us both to stone-faced shells." Margarita remembered her mother's face well, her worry, her shock, her constant questions - 'what did you do, what did you see, what happened- talk to me, either of you, you fiends!'

"It was the only time either my mother or I saw him shed tears. He locked himself in his study that night, and when he came in my room in the morning, he said if I do not take the maestro's services, I am not only a fool, but also no daughter of his. But I had made up my mind already by then, and reached the same conclusion."

"Sing to me, this medley." Abraxas responded.

"No."

Margarita rose herself from his arms, and pulled her hair out of her face, scrutinising him. His voice was soft, yet stern, when he spoke - this was not a mere request, but an order. Abraxas noted, however, that her refusal was uttered with fear in her tone, and he wondered what she feared.

"I was not taught these songs, so I cannot-"

"You sang many songs you were not taught. Isn't that why you are known as Margot the thief?"

She looked insulted for a second, making Abraxas wonder if she was truly offended or simply acted as if she were, before laughing with great aplomb at the accusation.

"I will sing them to you, fine. But not today, not now, not while you have many days and years and time with me. Because I know the effects of songs onto the mind, and I know you would not be able to look at me with the same eyes after you were to hear them from my mouth and hands. Do not deny it, my darling, because if there is a field where I know more than you, it is this." she spoke quickly, seeing he was ready to interrupt her.

"Sing this medley on my deathbed, then."

She thought about it for a moment, before letting herself fall back onto his chest.

"It shall be done."

While Bogdan Aladar was the first person to hear the findings on the Ballad of the Snake, that night, however, Abraxas Malfoy was the first person to hear it sung. With his ear pressed against her breast, his hair caressed by the witch's hands as he ran his fingers down her spine, he listened to her voice, changing from sweet tones to long, undulating hoarse notes, broken down in her throat by knots of emotion.